Hazelnuts
by Ferowyn
Summary: Minerva does not share. She CANNOT share.


This is another (spontaneous) fill for the The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 7 (BellyBats Keeper)  
Prompt:  
_Sinking a ship - breaking up a romantic pairing you enjoy_  
(Hermione/Minerva; Character C: Sirius Black)

Thanks to maybewesortoosoon for betaing.

* * *

**Hazelnuts**

Minerva McGonagall had never had an easy life.

The aftershocks of the war against Grindelwald had overshadowed her time at Hogwarts, which had started only two years after the dark wizard had been defeated, and the mistrust etched into the society's minds for a long time had not made her job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement any easier.

However, once she had returned to Hogwarts as a teacher everything had begun to work out – the Wizarding World had recovered, and was ready to rush back towards the height of power and knowledge they had been climbing before Grindelwald.

Still, not everything was perfect or easy.

Minerva had long known (and concealed) that men could not awaken her interest in any way but a professional. She had kept it a secret, well aware what coming out would mean for her.

Magical Britain was far behind the muggle society in many aspects, especially the purebloods – and being gay was just not an option. Not when her half-blood status had closed many a door for Minerva already.

So, she did not tell anyone.

She could handle it.

Actually, most Hogwarts professors never married, it would not attract attention if she stayed a spinster while being the teacher for Transfiguration. That way she could stay single and dream of women but never act on it without anyone being the wiser.

She was perfectly fine with that agreement with herself – until she began to realize that she was feeling attracted to one or the other (female) student. And that they were not necessarily of age.

Minerva began to learn how to keep a tight control on her emotions then.

With being gay she could live.

With being paedophilic – she could not.

Radically supressing every thought or emotion that might go there even in the slightest way turned out to be quite effective, and got easier over the years. She could work like that, being nothing but the strict, distanced and completely professional teacher.

Until one Hermione Granger came along.

The young girl, who – despite being a muggleborn –reminded her so much of herself slowly but surely tore down all of the walls she had built so carefully.

Minerva hated herself for it.

She hated herself for being attracted to a Merlin-damn thirteen-year-old, being fifty-seven years old herself.

It was _wrong_.

And still, she could not change anything about it.

Over the next years she watched as the young girl grew into a woman's body – maybe not beautiful to everyone's eyes, but definitely to Minerva's. And the teacher slowly began to hate herself a little less with every more _womanly_ feature she found that did not make her feelings falter.

Because, while she might still be lusting after a _student_ so much younger than herself, at least she could also like Hermione as a woman.

Not only as a girl.

And although the young Gryffindor was still far from being of age, she was at least not a complete child anymore.

It was getting easier and easier to suppress and forget about that paedophilic part of her preferences when she saw the soft swell of breasts beneath the school uniform, and took in hips that were built to bear children.

Minerva was planning to dream of her student for the seven years she would be given, and then forget about her – nobody should ever find out.

However, she had reckoned without one certain brilliant student.

_Of course_ Hermione found out after some time, she just _had_ to.

After all, while Minerva was doing a great job not letting anyone know, perfectly aware that it would mean the end of her career and life as she knew it, she still could not take her eyes off Hermione much too often.

The girl realized in her second year.

She was fifteen when she finally connected the dots.

It was the beginning of her fourth year, only two weeks into October, and Hermione was abuzz with heated emotions, her best friend having been thrown into the Tri-Wizard-Tournament. Her emotions were boiling high, positive and negative ones, so maybe it was no surprise that, after realizing what that look in those deep green eyes meant, she jumped headfirst into one of her vary rare kneejerk reactions:

She stayed behind after Transfiguration class, locked the door after everyone had left and just kissed her professor.

Minerva, normally a paragon of self-composure, was taken by surprise. And weak.

And, to be honest, extremely hot for her student.

Which was why she did not push the girl away. Instead, after a moment of shock, she pulled the much smaller woman closer and kissed her fiercely, deeply, consuming.

Like she should never have kissed a fifteen-year-old.

One who had never been kissed, or been in any kind of romantic interaction before, one might add.

It was as forbidden and morally rotten as hell, and still she did not stop.

_Could_ not stop.

Hermione, surprisingly, did not mind.

Rather to the contrary.

She returned everything the woman almost four times as old as her offered with the fervour of a young, excited teenager who did not know her own boundaries.

Boundaries which they blew up that evening.

Repeatedly.

Still, Hermione did not regret it the next morning. Or the next week. Or for the rest of the school year, actually. She kept coming back for more, and Minerva, who had been holding back for so long, could not resist such an offer freely given.

So, while officially nothing had changed, and they behaved no differently during the lessons and in public, in private they would blast every barrier between them away and become one.

And they were happy with it.

Minerva never dared to say those _magical _three words, although she knew for sure that what she felt for Hermione was love, and the girl never said them either. The older with could see it in the younger's eyes, could see the complete adoration and dependency the inexperienced teenager thought to be such a deep emotion – and maybe it was. Minerva was not about to ask.

They made it through the year, and despite never daring to meet during the holidays, Hermione made sure to receive detention with her Transfigurations professor the first evening of her fifth year.

She reached the classroom with untamed _hunger _in her eyes.

And oh dear, did they have a feast that night!

As the days trickled by Minerva began to realize that she was getting as dependant on Hermione as the girl seemed to be on her. She was also getting possessive, and jealous.

Hermione was hers and hers alone.

The girl, surprisingly, was more than fine with that.

Until Christmas came along.

Together with Harry and the Weasleys Hermione left for Grimmauldplace… for Sirius.

Minerva thought nothing of it, why would she?

And surely Hermione did not, either… however, she was still _hungry_. And Minerva was not there during the holidays.

Sirius, however, was.

And he was as hungry, _greedy_, as her.

So they satisfied their hunger.

Hermione never told Minerva about it.

She returned to school after Christmas break was over and continued their relationship as if nothing had happened. Well, for her that was true. They had never defined what it was that they had, and never determined any rules. To her, being with Sirius was not cheating Minerva – after all he meant nothing to her.

Minerva did not find out for a very long time.

More than a year, actually, she was convinced that Hermione had never touched, and would never touch another.

After all, Sirius had died at the end of the younger one's fifth year.

Why think of those few encounters during a lost Christmas?

Her sixth was almost through when Minerva finally found out.

It was nothing more than a blooper on Hermione's side, the telling of a secret she had never meant to be a secret anyway.

Still Minerva went ballistic.

She tried to make sure that the young girl belonged to _her _and no one else, to convince herself that it would never happen again – but she could not. Years and years of bottled-up frustration and lust were getting the better of her when she felt that she had lost the one person she had ever been allowed to have.

In a short moment of clarity Minerva fell back into that scalding hot self-hatred she knew so well, being disgusted of herself and who she had become.

Then the madness took her back.

* * *

Hermione Granger did not survive that night.

Her naked, disfigured body was found bound to her teacher's bed.

Just next to the bedpost said teacher had used to hang herself.

Minerva McGonagall had gone nuts.

Hazelnuts.


End file.
